The Many Sides of Severus Snape
by Drunken Boxer
Summary: Snape is by no means a one dimensional man. In Harry's first year, he gets a glimpse of what's sure to be just one side of the many sides of Severus Snape.


"Potter!" Snape snarled. "Just what do you call this?" he asked, pointing to Harry's cauldron, which was emitting copious amounts of black smoke.

"A potion, Professor," the eleven-year-old said tonelessly while trying to glare at Snape. His heart wasn't in the glare, however, and his eyes appeared strangely unfocused.

"You will stay after class to discuss the poor results you've achieved today, Potter," Snape said silkily as he turned and continued his circle around the dungeon. "And clean up this waste of ingredients."

Both Ron and Hermione shot dark looks at Snape's back, then turned to look at Harry, concern radiating from their eyes. Harry could feel their eyes on him though all his focus was on cleaning his cauldron and packing away the rest of his potions ingredients. "Don't worry about it," he said dully, not looking up.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione questioned quietly while Snape was on the other side of the room.

"Yeah, mate," Ron chimed in, "that's the second potion you've botched this week."

"Nothing," Harry said, finally looking up to meet their gaze, "I've just been a little tired is all."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, but Hermione said softly, "If you're sure" and they returned to their own potions.

Harry slowly finished putting his ingredients away and sat glaring at his desk until the bell finally rang ten minutes later. There was a scramble to leave and soon he and Snape were the only ones left in the dungeon.

"Potter," a snide voice interrupted the silence. Harry reluctantly looked up at his professor. "Would you care to explain why you have now failed to complete two potions this week?"

Harry said nothing for a moment, then met Snape's eyes and said, "I guess I'm just not very good at Potions, sir."

Snape was surprised - though he hid it well - that there was no defiance in the voice Potter had used to answer his question. "You're performance has been abysmal as of late, Mr. Potter, and if it continues in this vein, you will not pass your end of year exams."

Harry nodded mutely, once again looking at his desk.

"Do you care nothing for your education?" Snape asked angrily. "Does it matter to you whether you actually learn anything while you are here?"

No response.

Snape stalked around his desk until he was in front of Harry, who still refused to tear his eyes away from the table. "Well, Potter?" He paused a moment before grabbing Harry's arm and shaking it roughly. He noticed it was slightly warm, but thought nothing of it, contributing the excess warmth to the colder ambient temperature of the dungeons. "Is education below you?"

Harry finally looked up, shook his head, and quickly lowered his gaze once more. He was not fast enough for Snape, whose years of spying allowed him to notice every detail no matter how quickly it disappeared. Snape had seen the glazed eyes and the miniscule beads of sweat on Harry's forehead and mentally chastised himself for not realizing a sick child when he saw one.

Snape sighed audibly and gently placed his hand against Harry's brow. Harry initially flinched before realizing Snape was doing nothing more than checking for a fever, a fever he had known was there for the past three days. He sat in awe for a moment and wondered why his most hated professor was suddenly being so nice.

"I may not like you, Potter," Snape's voice cut into Harry's musings, "but as a teacher at this school, I have a duty to aid any student who is ill and in need of attention."

Harry was quite a bit more than stunned, but managed to say, "I don't need any attention, sir. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"True as that may be, you are still a student and I am a teacher who has responsibilities. I don't think your Head of House will be too pleased with me if I let you go off to your classes with a fever that is almost dangerously high either," Snape countered as he mentally calculated how much Fever Reducing Potion Potter would need. "The wizarding world would not be very kind if I let their golden boy come to harm because of a simple thing like a fever."

"I…I didn't know it was so high," Harry admitted quietly.

"Just how long have you been feeling poorly, Mr. Potter?"

"A few days now, sir."

"Why did you not tell anyone? If you had told Madam Pomfrey earlier, she could easily have cured you. But now that you have let the fever grow, it may take more than one potion to restore you to health."

Before Harry could reply, Snape strode out of the classroom and returned shortly with a vial of bright blue potion. "Drink," he commanded. Harry wordlessly tossed the vial back and pulled a face, which Snape ignored completely.

Snape reached up again and felt Harry's forehead. "Still a bit warm." He cast a tricky little charm that allowed him to see Harry's temperature, which was about three degrees above normal. "Very well, you are excused from the rest of your classes today. I suggest you go to your common room and rest. Come back in four hours for another dose and we'll see how you feel, Potter."

Harry nodded, "Thank you, Professor." He turned to leave and was almost out the door when he heard Snape.

"Be sure to wear old clothes, you'll be scrubbing cauldrons."

"Sir?" Harry asked as he turned around to see the bottom of Snape's robes billowing about as he entered his office.

"Ill or not, you still failed to follow directions and are receiving detention for your actions, Potter."


End file.
